


make my messes matter ( make this chaos count. )

by cahstle



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Blowjobs, M/M, background stanpat, valentines day, yes this is ages late and no i don't want to talk about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22949947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cahstle/pseuds/cahstle
Summary: In the end, Richie spends a probably unreasonable amount of money both on the giftsandon expedited shipping because he’s a dumbass who buys Valentine’s gifts two days before the holiday. It’s not like he doesn’thavethe money, and he can already hear Eddie berating him - becausewhere the fuck is he going to put a 7-foot stuffed bear, Richie?- and the thought makes him smile.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 100





	make my messes matter ( make this chaos count. )

“ _‘I don’t want anything’_ is totally code for _‘don’t you dare not get me something’_ , right?”  
“Or, it could mean he really doesn’t want anything.”  
Richie can all but see Stan rolling his eyes as he answers, and really, it’s Richie’s fault for trusting Stan with this - in his time of dire need.   
“C’mon, Stanley let’s be reasonable.” He’s whining, he knows he is, but he’s been scrambling around trying to find a last-minute gift and he’s moments away from driving _himself_ mad. “Give me some ideas, what did you get for Patty?”  
There’s a beat of silence before Stan answers with a quick - “No.” - and Richie’s face immediately breaks into a shit-eating grin.   
“But now you _have_ to tell me what dirty, dirty things you’re getting- _!_ ”  
Richie’s cut off by the monotone ring of the dial tone. He huffs out a laugh, but doesn’t bother trying to call back - he knows Stan won’t answer. He settles for sending a one-word text and subjecting himself to another rabbit-hole google search. 

bitch rich _2:47 p.m._  
 _ **dick**_

—

In the end, Richie spends a probably unreasonable amount of money both on the gifts _and_ on expedited shipping because he’s a dumbass who buys Valentine’s gifts two days before the holiday. It’s not like he doesn’t _have_ the money, and he can already hear Eddie berating him - because _where the fuck is he going to put a 7-foot stuffed bear, Richie?_ \- and the thought makes him smile. 

—

Richie’s running late. He’d meant to be home almost two hours ago - _fuck_ , he’d had the whole evening planned out. He was going to be home in time to intercept the packages and he was going to have a whole dinner out and ready by the time Eddie got home - he wasn’t going to _cook_ because he was well aware of his capabilities, but he had ordered take out from that Greek place they’d tried last month. But here he was, unlocking the front door and stepping through the threshold nearly two hours later than planned. At least he had the foresight to pick up the food on his way home instead of planning on leaving the house again. 

“Eds?” Richie called as he toed off his shoes, leaving them in front of the shoe rack while he tossed his keys on the entry-way table. There was enough light streaming through the living room windows that there was no use turning on the lights as he walked into the kitchen. He rounded the corner and had to stifle his laughter when he came face to face with Eddie seated at the dining room table with his index fingers pressed against his pursed lips. Across the table in the chair opposite of Eddie sat the oversized, cream-colored bear that upon further examination Richie thought might be bigger than he was widthwise, not just height. To top it off, the usual table centerpiece had been replaced with an opaque black vase with about three dozen roses jutting out of the top. 

“I hope you’re hungry” Richie hummed after a beat, moving to put the bag of takeout containers on the counter. He was pulling two plates down from the cupboard before Eddie even moved, and Richie didn’t want to address how that made him feel. 

“Rich,” Eddie’s voice is pitched down, which means he’s serious - Richie doesn’t wince, he doesn’t. “What is all of this?”

“Uh, happy Valentine's day?” Richie’s pointedly not looking back over to Eddie, slowly piling food on the two plates.

“I know what day it is-”

“Look,” Richie starts speaking before Eddie’s done, bracing the palms of his hands against the countertop with his head dipped low between his shoulders. “I know you said you didn’t want anything.”

“Richie -” Richie doesn’t like Eddie’s tone of voice, which is ridiculous. He knows this isn’t a big deal - Eddie isn’t going to hate him for buying stupid Valentine’s gifts, but he still feels the need to fill the space with the sound of his own voice until Eddie _understands_ why Richie couldn’t take _‘I don’t want anything’_ as an answer. 

“Eds, just - let me say my thing.” Richie lets out a breath, turning around to lean back against the counter and finally making eye contact in time to see Eddie’s jaw click shut like he’d been about to say something more. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, but that feels too defensive and he shifts again in favor of shoving one of his hands in his pants pocket and using the other to uselessly adjust his glasses. 

“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but look - I never got to do this. The whole gift giving thing. At least not when it wasn’t a joke.” Richie lets out a snort. “Not that the bear wasn’t a joke, that was mostly a joke.” He lifts a hand to rub sheepishly against the back of his neck. “So - I just wanted to get you something, I guess.”

Eddie’s staring back at him with an arched brow. “Are you done?”

Richie opens his mouth but no sound actually comes out, so he lets his jaw click shut a moment later and he nods. 

“As I was going to say before you interrupted:” Eddie lets out a huff, but Richie knows he’s not actually upset. “Thank you.”

Richie blinks owlishly behind his glasses, stares straight ahead for a bit, and blinks again. “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_ , dipshit.” The smile on Eddie’s face is a fond one so Richie counts this as an overall win for himself. “I had an inkling you weren’t going to take my no as an answer and these gifts are very _you_.”

Richie feels like his brain is short-circuiting and there’s no one to blame but himself. “So is that a ‘yes, proceed’ on giving you the last gift?” He’s going off the rails of his plans again, but sitting there watching Eddie he finds that he can’t actually wait.

“There’s more?” Eddie’s nose scrunches up in the exact way Richie finds downright adorable and his heart swells ridiculously big.

Richie sticks his tongue out petulantly in the same movement he pushes himself off the counter and walks past the table towards the bedroom. “Have a little faith in me.”

He doesn’t turn around to see if Eddie is following him - he knows he is - and they leave the food forgotten on the kitchen counter. Once in the bedroom, it doesn’t take Richie long to stride across the room and pull open the bottom drawer of the nightstand on his side of the bed. He pulls out a small, pre-wrapped box that’s covered in copious amounts of ribbon and glitter and turns around to hold it out triumphantly. He thrusts it out wordlessly from his body with a grin, watching as Eddie takes it hesitantly from him.

“I’ll bite - what is it, a tarantula? Airline tickets to Europe? One of those coupons for kisses books?” Eddie’s rambling and Richie rolls his eyes.

“Guess you won’t know until you open it, Eds.” Richie huffs, making an aborted _get on with it_ motion with his hands.

With another skeptical look, Eddie lifts the lid of the box, immediately fitting it on the underside instead. Inside the box are three cassette tapes that each have different iterations of Richie’s chicken scratch printed on them. They look about as old as they actually are, but it also looks like Richie took his time to meticulously clean the dust and grime off of each of the cases. 

“Are these your _mixtapes_?” Eddie sounds almost awed as he picks one of the cassettes out of the box and peers at the homemade labeling. 

For his part, Richie manages to look sheepish. “I - yeah. I’ve had them in an old beat-up box forever. I guess I never got around to giving those ones to you.”

Eddie sets the tape gingerly back down and recovers them, setting the box on top of the nightstand. “Do you remember what you put on them?

Richie snorts, shaking his head. “I’m lucky I remember actually _making_ them, I’m not going to remember each song.”

For a brief moment, Eddie looks disappointed before Richie continues. “That’s why I made tracklists - they’re shoved in the cases.”

Richie’s grin almost falters when Eddie looks back up at him and promptly shoves him down into a sitting position on their mattress. His eyebrows are practically in his hairline and he splutters when Eddie sinks down to his knees. 

“Eddie, _what_ -”

“Shit.” Eddie’s bodily shoving his way between Richie’s knees and what the fuck else is he supposed to do other than let him? “I expected the gag gifts. The gag gifts I could _manage_. I was going to make a joke about it and suck your dick, but then you had to go and be fucking _sweet_.”

Eddie’s already moved on to peeling his belt buckle open and yanking it out of his jeans when Richie’s mouth catches up with his brain. “Fucking _hell_ you can’t just-” He cuts himself off with an embarrassingly high pitched noise when Eddie unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down just enough, along with his boxers, in one swift movement. And Richie hadn’t made it easy either - caught off guard, he hadn’t even had time to lift his hips.

“Are you saying you _don’t_ want me to suck your dick?” It’s a cruel thing to ask when Eddie’s dipping his hand under the waistband of Richie’s boxers and pulling his cock out. Richie makes a wounded sound and his hands scramble for purchase against Eddie’s shoulders. God, Eddie hasn’t even done anything yet and Richie feels precariously close to embarrassing himself. 

“Fucking _shit_ ,” Richie’s fingers tighten against the fabric of Eddie’s shirt and Eddie’s pressing little kitten licks against the head of his cock. Richie wants to let his eyes flutter shut but Eddie hasn’t broken eye contact since he got his hand around Richie’s dick and he’s not going to be the one to end it. 

Richie’s resolve breaks when Eddie swallows him down without preamble. His eyes flutter shut and his head falls back at the same moment his hand flies up to grip the hair at the base of Eddie’s skill - not to pull or try to guide, just to hold on. Eddie’s gripping the base of his cock with one hand and the other is pressing Richie’s hips down into the mattress. 

Eddie wastes no time before he’s bobbing his head down and hollowing his cheeks as he pulls back, twisting his wrist and stroking up the length he can’t fit in his mouth. Richie can feel Eddie’s throat flutter when the head of his cock drags across his soft palate and Richie chokes on a groan. He fists his hand in Eddie’s hair with a whine and tries to tug him back. 

“Eddie baby,” Richie manages to pant out, wetting his bottom lip with a swipe of his tongue. “I’m like, ridiculously close to embarrassing myself. You gotta - Eddie, _please_.”

Eddie hums and pulls off with a pop. He keeps stroking Richie with a loose fist, thumbing the head of his cock on the upstroke. “That’s kind of the point, dipshit.” When he speaks, Richie can feel his breath on his spit-slick skin. 

“Fuck, you’re a dream,” Richie whines low in his throat when Eddie takes him back in his mouth, tonguing pointedly under the head of his cock. Eddie bobs his head down again and his fist comes up to meet his lips. Richie’s hips buck and he swears under his breath, smoothing his thumb across Eddie’s cheekbone apologetically. 

Eddie pointedly hollows his cheeks and looks up at Richie through his lashes and Richie couldn’t stop the words pouring out of his mouth even if he’d wanted to. “Fuck, baby you’re perfect.” His voice sounds as wrecked as he’s already feeling. “You look so pretty on your knees with your lips wrapped around my cock. Like you were made for this.” 

Eddie whines around his mouthful and Richie tugs on the hair at the base of Eddie’s skull. Eddie hollows his cheeks and sinks lower down Richie’s length and Richie groans when he feels the head of his cock hit the back of Eddie’s throat. “Eddie _baby_ ,” Richie tugs harder on Eddie’s hair, trying to pull him back. “‘m close.”

Eddie arcs a brow and pointedly swallows around Richie once, twice, a third time and Richie lets out a broken moan. “Eddie, Eddie, _EddieEddieEddie_.” The name comes out like a mantra as Richie throws his head back to expose the long column of his throat and spills down Eddie’s throat. Eddie swallows him down like it’s his god damn job until Richie’s whining with oversensitivity. 

Eddie pulls back with a wet _pop_ and runs his tongue over his lower lip. Richie groans at the sight and shoves his hands under Eddie’s arms, scrambling to pull him up into a searing kiss. It’s a testament to how turned on Eddie actually is when he doesn’t complain about Richie licking behind his teeth after having his cock in his mouth. Richie lets his hands slide lower and scrambles to undo the fastenings on Eddie’s pants when he’s actually standing on two wobbly legs.

Richie nips at Eddie’s lower lip when he finally gets a hand around Eddie’s cock. He licks his way back into Eddie’s mouth, chasing the taste of himself, at the same time he pulls Eddie out of his boxers and starts a quick rhythm with a loose fist. 

“Ah, fuck.” Eddie hisses against Richie’s lips and bucks up into his hand. It’s dry until Richie swipes his thumb through the pearling precum at the head of Eddie’s dick and then it’s better and Eddie’s close already. Richie trails open-mouthed kisses from Eddie’s lip down his jawline until he finds his pulse point and bites down. It’s not hard enough to mark and for a moment he mournfully imagines it was, but Eddie’s bucking into his hand and Richie’s attention is again pulled away.

“C’mon, baby,” Richie says against the damp skin of Eddie’s neck, pressing kisses down against his collar bone. “You were so good to me, _fuck_ Eddie. Come for me.”

And Eddie does. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and his knees shake as he paints the front of Richie’s shirt because _fuck_ they hadn’t even bothered to undress. Eddie slumps forward through the aftershocks, leaning his forehead against the top of Richie’s head and trusting him to hold his weight as he comes down and catches his breath. 

When he’s back in his body and aware enough to make sense of the sounds he’s hearing, Richie’s laughing. Richie has his come-slick hand pressed against the front of his own shirt and he’s _laughing_. 

“What’s so funny?” Eddie huffs despite the way the corner of his mouth is ticking up into a smile. 

“The gyros,” Richie says simply, snorting again. Eddie rolls his eyes and thumps the heel of his hand against Richie’s shoulder but it only serves to make Richie laugh harder, falling back against the bed and using his weight to pull Eddie on top of him. Eddie’s protests about being pulled onto Richie’s come covered shirt are smothered and muffled by the obnoxious kisses Richie is pressing all over his face. Eddie’s not _really_ complaining, though.

**Author's Note:**

> gab asked me to do a valentine's prompt and i work at the speed of snail, so ! it's late.  
> title's from sleeping at last's jupiter  
> comments and kudos actually fuel me   
> [tumblr](https://kissrichie.tumblr.com/)


End file.
